The Dragon and the Wolf destiny
by carlisxx
Summary: A new version of how Dany and Jon consummate their love. Set in Episode 7, Season 7.


The Dragon and the Wolf destiny

When Jon Snow reached her door, he was about to flee rather than stay. He couldn't understand how he'd made this decision. He'd been thinking about her endlessly, driving him crazy. After meeting with Cersei, they've left Dragonpit with a temporary sense of relief, welcomed in these tough times. Making their way of this meeting place, Dany ensured him they were going to defeat the Night's King and that Cersei's agreement to an armistice was a signal. Davos and Tyrion had been beside them in few minutes. Jon knew what they discussed was crucial for the world, and for their existence, but sometimes he wished he would have more time alone with Dany.

Dragonpit's journey back to Dragonstone hadn't been that long and finally both of them had had some time to talk on the boat's deck while most of the others remained inside. The sea winds were strong and it was really cold on deck, but being a Northman, Jon could stand it. Dany however was making an effort. She was free to go inside the boat, but she wouldn't. She'd look to the stairs to go under the deck from time to time, but then turned and kept talking to him. Probably also understanding that if she went inside the deck, they wouldn't be alone anymore. Jon told her about his father, his sisters and brothers; how Arya was her favorite sister and how he missed her. Dany, on the other hand, talked about saddest things, how she'd released the immaculate, how she'd dealt with the thirteen in Quarth, how Viserys, his brother, met his end, how a witch cursed her, and how Kahl Drogo died. She was brave, courageous, and like no one else in the world. When Dany talked about Drogo, Jon saw her eyes getting watery. She'd loved that man. He couldn't avoid feeling jealous of a dead man who had deserved her love. But he couldn't stand seeing her like that, he grabbed her hand, the one that laid on the reel of the deck. She looked at him, longingly, and then turned her eyes to their joined hands. He could feel warm going through his hand, his arm, his entire body. When he searched her eyes, she looked at him with the most endearing ones, showing something for him. There was a connection, he could feel it.

When Tyrion shouted "Aren't you feeling fucking cold here?" He immediately released her hand and she turned around quickly as well.

That night they reached Dragonstone and immediately headed towards the War room. They agreed to sail together to Winterfell. Jon knew the trip would take a couple of days. They were heading towards the uncertainty in the North. How would the northerners receive the news of his allegiance to Dany? How would his family see this news? But even if they didn't receive Dany well, they would still head to the Wall to battle the Night King. Death was a certainty. He'd been so close to dying a couple of days ago. He needed to tell her what he felt about her. He needed to do this on the remaining days they would have without northerners or white walkers in the north.

They departed Dragonstone at dawn. After the War room meeting, Jon had headed to the caves to see if the group of Dothoraki men left had mined some more dragonglass. They had. He'd helped load all this dragonglass to the boat, and by the time he returned to the castle, he'd been exhausted, everybody already sleeping in their chambers.

After sailing from Dragonstone, they've been busy with the logistics of planning the best route to reach Winterfell. Dany had retired to her bed earlier than usual, but during their planning meeting, Jon had noticed her a bit distracted. She'd even directed him a soft smile when nobody noticed. She wasn't playing the tough queen part now, she was rather pensive.

After dining with Davos, he felt her absence. He could go to her chamber and just ask if she was feeling ok. He could go to discuss more about their war plans. He could knock on her door and ask her if she wanted to go on deck to take into the night's air. But he could also knock and tell her he needed to talk to her, that he couldn't keep this to himself anymore.

And then he found himself in front of her door, without doing much thinking. He debated a couple of seconds, before he exhaled and lifted his hand. He had to do this. He could die soon and he needed to do this. It could be his last night alive for what he knew.

When Dany opened the door, he stared at her. Her eyes immediately recognized his intention, light, fire coming from them. Heat irradiated through his body. He debated whether to say something, but her eyes told him that there was no need to say anything. She was on the on the same page as him. Her hand extended the door, inviting him in, acknowledging his raw motivations: he wanted to just kiss her and make love to her. Initially, he'd been determined to talk to her, express his feelings, but Dany's eyes showed lust and desire for him. He closed the door; she was waiting for him to do the first move. time to confirm their mutual desire. His heart was thumping against his chest, he could hear it. Suddenly, breathing was hard and he found himself exhaling louder. Dany's eyes remained on him. He dropped his eyes and saw her beautiful lips, waiting to be kissed; her skin, her neck waiting to be kissed and touched. For a moment, he swore her eyes were purplish rather than blue. Was that the color of a true Targaryen? Was that the color emanating from the mother of dragons? He didn't know that, but he knew something: this was the time to kiss her.

He grabbed her neck, his fingers teasing her soft skin as their lips met. A warm sensation invading his body. Lips, hands, heavy breathing as he nipped her bottom lip, then kissed her again. And again. Breathing wasn't necessary, kissing was. When they broke apart, he noticed her swollen lips and in want of more kisses. He held her again and started to kiss her neck, her ear, everywhere where he could feel her. When she exhaled deeply, he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, and then the blood flowing southwards. He had to make love to Daenerys Targaryen. He had to show her how much she loved and worshipped her.

"Jon," he heard her whispering, making his heart jump. They parted away as he felt her hands roaming his back, looking for the laces to withdraw his cloak.

"Allow me," he told her. She taking his clothes out would take time. He was wearing heavy winter clothing, a cloak, armor and vest. He hadn't thought of this. Afterwards, he'd come initially only to talk to her.

As he started to take out the first layers, he saw her also working on her own attire. She was also heavily clothed. He wanted to help her rip off of her clothes, but that wasn't possible this time. He reached a point where his hands trembled. He couldn't work on his clothes, the anxiety of seeing her while she peeled off her own ones, had render him clumsy. And then she was naked in front of him before he could even finish with his clothes. He'd never thought it would that difficult for air to reach his lungs. She was a goddess. The most beautiful creature on earth.

She approached him and grabbed the hands that still fuzzed with the laces of his pants. He withdrew his hands as he stared her body, her perfect breasts, the tips of her nipples hard, the soft patch of hair that covered her womanhood. He lastly felt the last piece of his clothes falling to the floor. This time she kissed him as she passed her hands around his chest. He grabbed her by the arms, her fingers teasing her breasts. He wanted to feel her everywhere. He started walking backwards to meet the bed, embracing and dragging her towards him. He needed to have her skin against hers. They felt on the bed with a loud plop and she laughed a bit. He was in heaven. As he pushed his body towards up the bed, she climbed over him. And then they were on fire, skin grazing skin, sweat, hands. He paused to look at her, barely able to control his breathing. She stared at him longingly, conceiving the same feelings he had for her. They were in sync; there were no need for words. They loved each other.

After endless waves of surreal pleasure, he found himself lying in bed, her body sprawled over him. Her hand making circles in her chest as his fingers roamed her back, her lower back, all the valleys in her beautiful body. If this was heaven, he didn't want to know more about the war to come. He wanted to remain with her forever, in this bed. What would happen if they flee, only the two of them from this war? If they found an empty island, some place far in Meeren, or anywhere where they wouldn't be reached by the Night king and only live to love each other? But they couldn't do this. Their people needed them. A least, no matter what happened tomorrow, all his life was worth because of this night, because of her. He'd had the chance to love Danaerys Targaryen.


End file.
